


We Don’t Have to Talk About It (We’ll Find Another Way)

by SmoakingGreenArrow



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Arrow (TV 2012) Season 7 Speculation, F/M, Just wishful thinking, Not really spec, PRISON BREAKKKK
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-24
Updated: 2018-11-24
Packaged: 2019-08-28 10:10:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16721346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmoakingGreenArrow/pseuds/SmoakingGreenArrow
Summary: Felicity is at Slabside to pick up Oliver, to finally take him home...when all hell breaks loose.





	We Don’t Have to Talk About It (We’ll Find Another Way)

Oliver looks up at Diaz, his muscles aching and his face sore from the blows that are a little more biting than he remembered. 

Diaz is clearly on something, some kind of drug that enhances his strength. It isn’t Mirakuru level scary, but it’s enough to make Oliver take his time with this fight. He plans his movements carefully, anticipating his enemy like he has so many times before.

The man in front of him is full of rage and brute strength, and Oliver knows better than to meet him with the same ferocity. Instead, he stalks slowly, letting Diaz exhaust himself. The prison is in the midst of full-blown chaos. Insanity that Ricardo brought with him. Men are dying, or dead, all around them. The hallway is lively with prisoners and guards shouting; a mix of ecstatic freedom for some and inescapable death for others.

Hatred fills his whole body, staring at the monster before him, the one who had somehow managed to suck all of the good from his life.  _Their_ life. “Come on Oliver,” Diaz taunts, “I know you can fight better than this.”

“It’s not about better,” he seethes, “I don’t have to be stronger than you to kill you.”

A flash of a smirk crosses Ricardo’s face as he touches his thumb to the corner of his lip, swiping at an open wound. “Empty threats,” he mumbles back, “just like Felicity. But even your wife standing in front of me with a gun pointed at my heart was more believable than  _that_.”

Her name on the man’s lips makes Oliver pause, his blood boiling. And Diaz’s lips twitch into another smirk, not missing the moment of panic, however controlled, that showed on Oliver’s face. “Oh yeah, your wife is fearless. It’d be hot if I wasn’t planning on watching the life drain from her eyes.”

“I’m going to enjoy killing her, Oliver.”

Oliver knows he’s being baited, and the words only work to snap his focus back where it should be. He doesn’t respond, carefully keeping his anger on a leash. Ready for the conversation and this showdown to be over, Oliver moves with calculated speed. He quickly descends on Diaz, ducking and wrapping his arm around the man’s neck.

When Ricardo rears backwards, Oliver kicks his feet up, pressing them to the wall across from them and pushing back, controlling the momentum. All he has to do is keep his grip tight until the man passes out. 

But then he looks up, and Oliver sees the one thing he has never wanted to see in this place. 

Felicity.

* * *

 

Sitting in the car outside of Slabside, Felicity keeps her eyes on the door. The guard had promised her that Oliver would be walking out that door. Any minute. But that had been almost twenty minutes ago. And Felicity hadn’t seen a single guard or prisoner since.

She huffs, tapping her hands on the steering wheel. Laurel had offered to come, but Felicity wanted to do this alone. It felt like she should. And not just because she hopes to make good use of the backseat somewhere on their way home. The first time she comes face to face with Oliver again, she needs it to be just the two of them. They have a lot to talk about. And a lot of catching up to do.

So, where the hell is he? Felicity turns the car off, pulling her keys from the ignition. 

Feeling restless, she puts her hand on the door, debating her next move. 

It’s not until she steps out of the car that she can hear the sirens coming from inside. And then she’s running straight for the door.

* * *

 

Her eyes are wide, wild, as she takes in the madness of Slabside. And Oliver blinks, thinking for a moment that he’s seeing things. She doesn’t see him, seeming more like a haunting reminder of the things he’d lost. But then he notices Stanley, a few paces ahead of his wife, leading her through the riot. 

His instinct is to snap Diaz’s neck and stop her. Get her the hell out of there. Yet he knows that for his freedom, Diaz needs to be alive. Keeping his eyes on Felicity, Oliver squeezes a little tighter, and tighter, until Ricardo is wheezing and desperate for air. He stares, watching Felicity follow Stanley up the staircase towards the upper-level cells, holding his grip tight on Diaz’s throat. 

As soon as the man slumps against him, Oliver drops his body to the floor and runs to the staircase. He knows that Slabside must be on lock down, since the prisoners are still inside. Looking up at the second level, Oliver searches for the head of blonde hair that has no business here. And once he catches sight of her, Oliver bolts up the steps, launching himself onto the railing and flipping over it with ease. He lands with a thud, right in front of Stanley.

It was only yesterday that Oliver had felt pity for him. That he’d wanted to protect the innocent man who didn’t belong at Slabside. But maybe he was projecting his own misfortune onto a psychotic killer. Maybe subconsciously, he’d needed a friend, someone to look out for. 

Stanley’s eyes widen as he tilts his head up to look at Oliver. Clenching his fists, Oliver keeps his gaze on the man who had deceived him, preparing to get some justice as he grabs Stanley by the shirt and hauls him forward. “I was just trying to help!” Stanley cries, his hands flying up to weakly scrap at Oliver’s arm. 

Practically growling, Oliver tightens his grip. “Stay away from my wife,” he threatens.

“Wait!” Felicity yelps, stepping between him and Stanley before Oliver can deliver a blow. He instantly loosens his fist, dropping it to his side. 

Oliver huffs, “Felicity, please get out of my way.”

“Hey,” she shakes her head, “I’m sure whatever reason you have is valid, but he says he knows how to get out of here.”

“How did you get in?” He grumbles back, taking a quick survey of their surroundings, searching for any immediate threats. 

Raising an eyebrow, Felicity scoffs. “The security code on the side door is scarily simple.”

He sighs, because of course. “If you got in, then I think you can get us out.”

“Yeah,” a voice comes from behind him, “leave the snake to me.” Oliver shoves Stanley aside, squaring his body between Felicity and the voice as he turns around. Turner stands with a bloodied face, “it’s about time karma catches up with him.”

* * *

 

Running behind her husband, his hand in hers with the prison in utter mayhem, is the easiest thing Felicity has had to do since Oliver went away. She doesn’t care about Stanley, Turner, or Diaz. She doesn’t care about consequences or right and wrong.

She just wants to get Oliver the hell out of there. And he’s right; she got in, and she’ll make damn sure that they get out. Alive. 

Oliver keeps her close, his thumb stroking a soothing circle on the back of her hand despite the fact that hell is breaking loose around them. Felicity follows blindly, focused more on him than what’s going on around them. She trusts his instincts, trusts him to keep them both safe, and knows that they’ll both survive this in one piece. “This way, baby,” Oliver mutters to her, his eyes narrowed at the room full of threats and violence, but her attention is drawn to his profile.

It’s a face she’s known for the better half of a decade. One she’s memorized. Dreamed of. Let herself fantasize about, once upon a time before that fantasy became real. Yet, he is so unfamiliar. His voice is the same, the soft way he speaks to her. But his cheeks are hollow, his skin pale, his injuries displayed in layers that prove the months of abuse he’s endured in this hell. Scars she doesn’t know. And her heart breaks for him.

A man who has been broken again and again, but somehow still stands as the strongest person she’s ever met.

* * *

 

It’s not easy to be patient.

Not when there’s a penitentiary full of crazed prisoners and your wife is the thing standing between them and their freedom. He can’t imagine that many of the inmates have escaped, not with the state of Slabside. And all it would take is one person realizing what Felicity is doing, and all of that desperate chaos will be directed at her. 

Oliver huffs, his eyes roaming over the scene again; the fights, blood, and death. He keeps his body angled, shielding Felicity from view in case any of them notice her unlocking the door. He huffs again, which irritates his wife. “I almost have it,” she snaps, tension in her tone, but he simply nods once. There’s no way he can tell her to relax, to take her time. They need that door open  _now_.

Above, Oliver can see Turner laying into Stanley, but there’s not a hint of pity to give. He’d put his neck on the line, his freedom, to clear Stanley’s name. “You going to tell me about that?” Felicity grumbles, her eyes quickly flashing up to Stanley and Turner before she looks back down at the door’s security pad.

“Focus, please,” he sighs in response.

* * *

 

“Got it!” Felicity shouts just as the buttons on the lock turn green. She pushes the handle down, smiling when it hitches. Oliver’s on her in an instant, his chest pressing against her back.

“Okay,” he says lowly, his lips near her ear but she knows that he’s watching the commotion. “I want you to open the door and run like hell. I’ll be right behind you.” Felicity can feel the rigid surface of his muscles, the weight of his protective, warm presence behind her. She swallows, nodding once before she yanks the door open.

* * *

Felicity rushes from the door, running with purpose just as he’d asked. 

Oliver only makes it two steps after her before he feels a heavy hand on his back, pulling him back into Slabside and throwing him to the ground.

* * *

Even though her adrenaline is pumping, running straight for the car, it only takes Felicity a moment to realize that Oliver’s footsteps aren’t behind her. She turns, just in time to see Brick looming over Oliver before the door slams shut between them. “No!” Felicity yells, her feet skidding across the pavement as she fumbles back towards the door.

When she reaches it, Felicity doesn’t bother pounding on it. She quickly starts working at the lock-pad again, hoping that she’ll be a little faster this time.

“Want me to get that?”

Whirling around, Felicity feels relief, probably for the first time ever, to see Laurel. She nods adamantly, stepping back to clear the area as Black Siren takes a deep breath. And Felicity promptly covers her ears just in time, avoiding her eardrums bursting when Laurel screams.

* * *

As quickly as Brick had him on the ground, Oliver is on his feet. He knows that just like Diaz, this threat operates on rage and revenge, too. Brick only wants to draw blood, otherwise he would’ve taken an open door to his freedom. But instead, he’d dragged Oliver back inside. Away from Felicity. It’d been one time too many that he’d let things stand between him and his wife.

“I’ll kill you for that,” Oliver growls, mustering up the same hatred and energy for Brick that he’d directed at Ricardo Diaz.

Raising his fists, settling in for a fight, Brick nods. “That’s what I was hoping for, Green Arrow.”

But before Brick can throw a single punch, the door in front of him rips off its hinges and collides with the man’s face. 

If they weren’t in the middle of a prison riot, Oliver might’ve laughed. Especially when he whips his head to the now open door and sees Felicity. She raises her hands above her head in victory and screams, “boo yeah!”

* * *

“Oliver Queen!”

Felicity’s hand tenses in Oliver’s at the sound of the voice. Prisoners are escaping through the exit, but she, her husband, and Black Siren are almost across the parking lot. 

“Come back here!”

Her hand latches tightly to Oliver’s, afraid that he might give into the bait. 

“Don’t run away from me!”

She meets her husband’s eyes, and it surprises her how quickly she’s willing to drop everything and run. For him. With him. Catching Diaz had been her tunnel focus ever since she got back to Star City. She’d been willing to do anything to get him.

“I’ll never stop! I’ll come for you, for your wife, your son! Everyone you care about will die, and I’ll make sure you’re alive to lose them one by one!”

Felicity stares up at Oliver, watching a murderous flash of rage cross his face. But a moment later, it’s gone. He meets her eyes, seeming to be at odds until he takes a good look at her. Stuck between a car to freedom, to  _them_ , and finally getting revenge on Diaz, the decision is eerily simple. All it takes is one small shake of her head, and Oliver nods, squeezing her fingers and turning his back on Diaz for good.

It could be a risk, but it’s one they are both resigned to make. 

“Fight me like a man!”

His tone is desperate, and Felicity realizes for the first time that Ricardo Diaz is just as tired as they are. This has been going on for too long, and without his connections, blackmail, or guard dogs, he has nothing. He wants it to end, one way or another.

Ahead of them, Laurel tenses, her feet halting as her back stiffens. Turning slowly, her lips pull up into a wicked grin like Diaz has finally struck the nerve she’d been waiting for. “‘Fight like a man’ is rich coming from you, Ricardo.” She calls back to him tauntingly, cocking her head to the side.

“What are you doing?”

Laurel meets Felicity gaze, her eyes heated but controlled. “Finishing this,” she answers before sauntering her way back to Diaz, goading him as she inches closer. “I’ve been under the thumb of one too many men in my life. And trust me, you,  _dragon_ , are the saddest excuse for one I’ve ever seen.”

* * *

With both hands on the wheel, Felicity peels out of the prison parking lot. 

Oliver sits beside her silently, watching the fall of the place he hated more than anything. More than Lian Yu, which he didn’t think was possible. He’s pretty sure there’s a wing on the south end of Slabside that’s on fire, and Oliver catches a glimpse of a group of convicts stealing a bus. 

He has no idea what’s come of Turner, Stanley, or Brick. And he doesn’t care.

There’s also Diaz, laid out on the pavement while Laurel screams from above him, drawing blood from his ears.

“Is she going to kill him?” Felicity’s voice breaks the silence as Slabside disappears in the rear-view.

Sighing, Oliver places his hand on her thigh. He knows why she’s worried. Ironically, Diaz needs to be alive in order to assure his freedom. But all Oliver can focus on is the warmth of her body. He closes his eyes, surprised by how much the simple touch affects him. It’s something he never realized he took advantage of. His sweet, loving, expressive wife who has never hesitated to soothe him with her gentle touch. Her skin on his.

God, he needs it. 

“No,” Oliver rasps, his eyes narrowing at the windshield, at the thick droplets of rain beginning to hit the glass, an ominous roll of thunder making their great escape feel even more somber. “I don’t think she will.”

His wife nods once, keeping both hands on the wheel as she takes off down the winding road. The sky grows darker and darker, the rain beginning to come down in sheets. “Let me drive,” he offers quietly after a while, seeing the concerned concentration on her face. 

She simply shakes her head.

But another twenty minutes go by, and Oliver’s hand begins to instinctively grip her leg tighter, feeling the car starting to slide on the slick, jet black pavement. He knows the road is narrow, full of sharp turns and deadly cliffs, and even as slow as she’s going, it’s hard to see just a few feet in front of them.

“Felicity...” he whispers lowly, filling the silence between them as his fingers curl around her thigh. Without a word, Felicity carefully pulls off the road and turns the car off. 

The windows fog with their breaths, the violent rain hitting the top of the car. Yet somehow, it feels peaceful. 

Neither of them say a word.

And Oliver realizes that he feels warmer than he has in months. It’s not just his hand on her flushed leg, or the heat still circling between them, or the jolt of awareness he feels when he looks at her. 

Felicity’s eyes slowly lift to meet his gaze, peeking over at him while she tucks her hair behind her ear, and he can see the warmth there.

It spreads like wildfire straight to his soul, rousing something inside of him he’s kept hidden, stored away so Slabside couldn’t touch it.

* * *

Oliver’s steady gaze on her is sobering, anchoring, but it also makes her heart race. 

They’d left everything behind.

And maybe on some level it was wrong, maybe they could have done more to help the situation at Slabside.

But she isn’t sorry.

Not when his eyes are on her like that.

Not when she is finally alone with the man that she vowed to love for the rest of her life. 

Not when he bites his lip, his gaze falling down her face, taking in ever inch until he stops at her lips. Definitely not when he leans closer to kiss her. To finally kiss her.

She isn’t sorry.

* * *

He feels the moment Felicity holds her breath, her eyebrows furrowing as she studies him. Oliver pauses in the middle of a very confident path to close the distance. And he lets her analyze him, worrying for a moment that she doesn’t want this. Doesn't like whatever she sees. Doesn’t want him.

But his wife had fought like a warrior to save him, and come hell or high water, he’d do the same for her ten times over. Slowly, Oliver lifts his hand and feathers it through Felicity’s hair. He keeps his fingers gentle as he strokes her soft locks over her shoulder, feeling like he’s touching something fragile for the first time in nearly six months.

No, not fragile.

Valuable.

 _Sacred_.

Oliver doesn’t bother to hide his thoughts, letting them exhale with his breath that mixes with hers, allowing her to see it in his intense gaze as he stares back at her. 

He loves her. She knows it. 

Felicity’s lips part, her tongue coming out to wet them. And he watches as her chest rises and falls with a heavy breath. Then she’s moving towards him, her hand grazing his neck.

* * *

The moment her hand touches his skin, she feels his pulse drumming beneath her fingers, fast and intoxicating. Without a second thought, Felicity pulls him closer, leaning over the console until her forehead rests against his.

There’s a long pause as she listens to the rain and the sound of their shared breaths, her eyes slipping shut. But he doesn’t kiss her.

Oliver nuzzles his nose against hers, his beard feeling different, but kind of nice. 

And then his lips brush against Felicity’s. But he doesn’t kiss her.

He waits, holding on to his control, yet she can feel it radiating off of him. Her husband has been treated like a caged animal for  _months_ , and she can’t help the part of her that wonders if he’ll be gentle with her...or if she even wants him to be.

With the thought, Felicity presses her lips against Oliver’s, her breath catching in her throat as she drops her hands to his collar, gripping it and hauling him closer.

The kiss is hot and hungry and  _everything_ to her _._ As much as she hates to admit it, she’d given up hope. She’d protected herself by never letting her daydreams go too far. Never giving herself the pleasure of hoping to have him home again.

Now he’s  _here_. 

And she can’t get close enough.

* * *

Kissing her again, after so long apart, reminds him of the fireworks he felt in his chest the first time his lips ever touched hers. It snaps everything back into focus. The emotion in his chest booms like the thunder outside. Every piece of himself that he’d kept locked inside comes flowing out like the downpour hitting the car. 

And she can’t get close enough.

Groaning, Oliver fumbles his fingers down her arm, stroking the goosebumps on her skin. Then he grips her hip, hearing her whimper with the same need. To touch, to feel, to  _be_.

He pulls Felicity closer, guiding her towards the passenger seat and she eagerly helps by climbing over the console, settling on his lap.

With perfect clarity, he knows that he’d be content to kiss her until the rain clears. Until the sun comes up, if he can. 

Her lips taste like heaven and like home all at once, and he takes his time exploring them; relearning that beautiful sound in the back of her throat, remembering the perfect way she fists his shirt in her hands, reminding himself what he’s been missing. 

Devouring her.

In that moment, Oliver doesn’t care about Slabside, or anything behind them. He doesn’t ever plan on looking back that way. In that moment, he doesn’t even care about what’s ahead, either. What they’ll eventually have to drive toward.

In that moment, she’s all that matters.


End file.
